"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily.
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